


Dirty Dancing

by joeyjames (lilyandjoey)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, Gay Bar, Multi, Nightclub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-21
Updated: 2007-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyandjoey/pseuds/joeyjames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco isn't sure how he ended up here. He wishes he hadn't come. This evening has been too disturbing for words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - this fic features Trio love, gay!fanon!Draco and drunk!slutty!Pansy. God knows where this came from.

Draco wasn’t entirely sure how Pansy had managed to get him into the nightclub. Well, she had offered him food and told him he looked really good in tight jeans. And she may have mentioned that there would be hot guys. So, yes, Draco did know how Pansy had convinced him to go to the nightclub. What he _really_ wasn’t sure of was why she had insisted on bringing him to the Pink Cobra. Pansy never liked going to gay clubs with Draco. She always complained that she never got lucky and all the lesbians were looking at her funny. Yet here they were, in a gay bar. A Muggle gay bar.

Draco leaned in what he hoped was a casual, sexy and aloof manner on the bar. He had caught the barman’s eye with relative ease (of course) and was now surveying the dance floor with a very camp pink cocktail in one hand. It had two straws, a sparkly thing and an umbrella in it. Pansy was nowhere to be seen. _Typical,_ Draco thought, _she’s either managed to find a straight guy to seduce, or she’s hiding in the ladies._ In actual fact, Pansy was doing neither. She was knocking back her second tequila and about to make a beeline for the podium. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your perspective, tequila always brought out the pole-dancer within Pansy.

Draco, meanwhile, was still people-watching. While his wandering eyes were following an attractive young man in an obscenely tight green T-shirt, Draco noticed something unexpected. His eyes followed the man in green for a few seconds before being drawn inexorably back to the strange sight before him. There was no mistaking her. He’d recognise that hair anywhere. Hermione Granger was writhing in between two men on the dance floor; her big, bushy hair roaming wild and free. _That’s not right,_ Draco thought, _It can’t be her. It shouldn’t be allowed!_ But it was her. In torn jeans and a scruffy T-shirt with paint splatters on it, Granger was grinding with not one man, but two.

Then Draco realised that he knew the men. Harry bloody Potter and Ron Weasley. This could not be happening. He gulped down the rest of his cocktail and turned to order another. It was downright unsettling, seeing those three behaving like that. A few moments later, shiny cocktail in hand, Draco turned back to look at the dancers again. He took in the scene carefully and slowly, trying to force his unhappy brain into accepting what was happening.

Potter and Weasley were dressed just as scruffily as Granger. It looked like they’d been decorating or something – they certainly weren’t dressed for a night on the town. Granger was between the two, facing Potter. One of his legs was between hers and she was pressing hard up against him and gyrating her hips slowly and deliberately. Weasley was behind her, right up against her, and Potter’s hand was clearly on his arse. Occasionally, Granger leant back against Weasley and his hands moved to her stomach. The entire display was practically indecent. To his extreme embarrassment, it was certainly enough to get Draco hot under the collar.

Draco dragged his gaze away from the pervy dance floor three-way and looked round the room, trying to regain his composure. Unfortunately, this meant that he noticed where the errant Pansy had wandered off to. She was on a podium, up next to the DJ, gyrating round a pole in a manner that would have made her poor mother blush. The shortness of her skirt and the vigorous routine she was performing meant that the entire population of the club could see Pansy’s rather skimpy red knickers. Draco decided that she must have been practicing this secretly. There was no way one discovered the ability to do _that_ with a pole spontaneously when hammered. _She’s rather more athletic than I had imagined,_ Draco thought wryly.

He downed the rest of his cocktail and decided it was high time he ordered another. Or possibly several. Tonight was not turning out how he had expected. Pansy was not just in a gay bar willingly, but pole-dancing in a gay bar. Potty and the Weasel were involved in some kind of creepy ménage-a-trois with their fluffy friend. Well, there had been rumours to that effect at school, which he had snickered at secretly and occasionally publicly, so it shouldn’t have come as that much of a shock. The part that was freaking him out was that he felt compelled to watch the trio on the dance floor. That he found watching them, God forbid, arousing. All he needed to up the creepy factor now was for Greg and Vince to show up in matching tutus and do the Macarena. _Now there’s a mental image I don’t need,_ Draco chastised his over-active imagination.

Against his better judgement, Draco found his gaze was pulled back to what he had mentally dubbed the ‘creepy three-way’ on the dance floor. Granger now had her tongue in Potter’s ear and Weasley’s hands were wandering up under her paint-splattered T-shirt. Unable to look away, Draco watched with a confusing mixture of morbid fascination and arousal. Granger pulled away from Potter slightly. She rested her weight on Weasley as she ground against him. The two men closed in around her, wedging her tightly between them as they moved in time to the rhythm. Weasley had one hand tangled in Potter’s messy hair so Draco could see that there were a few flecks of paint on Potter’s glasses. It was unnerving that something involving a woman, and especially _that_ woman, could turn him on so much.

To his horror, Draco had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had failed to notice when Potter broke away from the little group on the dance floor. Potter was next to him at the bar, smirking as he followed Draco’s gaze to Weasley and Granger entwined on the dance floor. She still had her back to Weasley, pressing against him and grinding rhythmically with the music. His hands were at her waist, tracing lazy circles on her stomach in a way that made Draco’s own stomach tighten inexplicably. Potter leaned in close to Draco and made a series of hissing and spittings which he could not interpret but knew must be in the language of serpents – a language which could not be learnt.

Not sure what to do, Draco jerked his head in the direction of his wayward companion. Potter took in the sight of Pansy Parkinson flashing her knickers to the world with little surprise and a long, lascivious look. He turned and winked at Draco before making his way back to his friends, laden with drinks. Draco watched Potter walk away, wishing that he weren’t staring at his childhood enemy’s backside lustfully. Potter handed Granger and Weasley a different coloured shot each. He wasn’t sure what they were drinking, but the trio knocked them back swiftly and returned to their previous provocative dancing.

Draco couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on between those three. He knew it was none of his business. He knew his interest was decidedly unhealthy. However, his curiosity was piqued, and he just _had_ to know. Were they actually involved in a ménage-a-trois or were they just over-friendly when drunk? Or maybe two of them were together and they didn’t want to leave the other one out. Whatever was going on, it had to be a bit weird.

Finally, Draco managed to drag himself away from the ‘creepy three-way’ and headed over towards Pansy. He should probably get her down from there. He told himself that she had embarrassed herself enough already and he was doing her a favour. Deep down, he knew that he wanted Pansy’s opinion on the unholy triad or to go home. Maybe both. He shimmied easily through the crowd, sliding between groups of inebriated dancers, none quite so sexually charged as the ones he had been watching all night. Soon he had reached the podium on which Pansy was currently performing quite a complex acrobatic move which meant that her breasts were very close to falling out of her top.

He wasn’t quite sure _how_ he was going to get her down from there. Sadly, Draco had not planned that far ahead. Pansy was far to wrapped up in her dancing to notice him just inches away from her. Sighing in despair, Draco realised that he would have to climb onto the podium in order to get Pansy down. Steeling himself, he placed his hands on the edge of the podium and swung himself up.

To his dismay, Pansy decided that she wanted to use Draco as the pole. He stood rigid in mute horror for several interminable seconds while his best friend gyrated against him in a rather disturbing fashion. Draco couldn’t remember the last time a woman had wrapped her legs around him and then dangled upside down using a bar for support. In fact, no, it had never happened before. Thankfully, the shiny cocktails he had been downing to cope with the sight of the disturbing threesome helped Draco to deal with the position in which he now found himself. Giving up sanity and dignity as a lost cause, Draco surrendered to the surreal nature of his evening thus far and threw himself into the dirty dance routine with Pansy. Enough alcohol would ensure he didn't have to remember this in the morning. Or afternoon. Mornings were over-rated.


End file.
